By Hephaestus Forged
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Sequel to Prometheus Unbound, Slytherin Companion to Ritually Yours. Draco Malfoy has changed, and is about to take on changing the Slytherins in his year. Meanwhile his family's expansion continues
1. The Heat of the Forge

**By Hephaestus Forged**

 _ **Author's Note**_ _: This prologue has been complete and waiting for me to continue with this work for quite some time. I kept putting it off though, believing that it was going to be a long time before I got to the work that it began. I was right, but now, I'm getting a little bit of muse attention to the next chapter, and some people keep asking what happened to_ Prometheus Unbound's _sequel. It is still likely that it will be quite some time before more of this story is produced, but now, at least you will be able to set your story alerts for when it happens._

 _This story has gone under a lot of titles while I worked on the plot. Most of them had Prometheus in the title. I settled on this one when the prologue was written. I'm pretty certain that you will understand the choice once you've finished reading it._

 _..._

 **The Heat of the Forge**

Smoke wafted through the room. The heat of the fire was oppressive as the young wizard worked the bellows. Despite the chill of January's winter in the Hebrides, he wore only a loincloth, mostly for protection. The chill of winter could not penetrate this room, not with him working the bellows, ever increasing the heat of his uncle's forge.

The muscles of his just turned twelve-year-old body were well trained to handle the strain of the bellows. Long had Gregory worked in his uncle's forge. He'd first attempted to pump the bellows at just seven, and by nine, he regularly took his turn. Today the bellows were his, allowing him to watch his uncle form a sword as he kept the fire hot.

As strike after strike of hammer over anvil, steel forming blade, magic wafted through the room. The muggles had lost how blades like this one were made. They called it Damascus Steel. In the wizarding world it was known as magical steel, because it was the only steel that not only allowed magic to conduct through it, but enhanced it. In the right wizard's hands, a magical steel sword practically sung with magic.

His uncle raised the sword with his tongs, taking another look. Apparently judging it good enough for now, he plunged the sword into the ley line's water. Steam and the fresh smell of clean air fought with the odor of the forge, causing a moment's breath of fresh air.

"That will do for now," his uncle said, letting the sword cool. "Now Gregory, I know you didn't come to the forge just to watch me forge a sword that won't be done for weeks." His uncle sat down on a bench against the wall, picking up a nearby ice cold glass of water. He patted the seat next to him. "Come and let your uncle hear your problems."

Gregory sat down next to his uncle, picking up his own ice cold glass. The cold water felt good as his sipped it. Here in the warm of the forge, separated from the sterile rooms of home by the ice and snow of winter, he was not stiff. His worries had receded with each pump of the bellows. And now, in the comforting warmth, the barriers of ice and winter, of expectations and demands, they were melted, forgotten and lost like a snowman melted in the spring.

"I'm not a good wizard, Uncle Aodh," Gregory said. "I'm almost failing, and every time I look at my grades they keep getting worst, when everyone else seems to get better. I'm next to last in my class. My potions never seem to work, no matter how hard I try. I was supposed to transfigure a steel ball into a glass ornament, and it turned into an egg."

"Missing good fresh eggs from the farm, weren't you?" Aodh said, putting his arm around his nephew.

Gregory looked down at the floor of the forge, with its carefully fitted stones, seemingly randomly placed, but so tightly placed against each other that not a drop of water could fit between them.

"Have you asked for help?"

"Who is going to give me help?" Gregory said, still looking down at the stones, his eyes tracing the joints. "I'm a stinking snake, son of a Death Eater, doomed to follow in his father's footsteps. No raven will help me. The badgers are their own tight knit family. The lions? When have they aspired to anything other than pranks and retribution. And as for my own house. We are the house of ambition and cunning.

"We climb over each other, trying to get ahead by pushing each other down. My house is a pit. Ask them for help? No, it would just open the scars and wounds of my failures. I have to help myself, and I don't know how."

"My Gregory, you may not know how now, but you will learn," Aodh said, raising Gregory's chin in order to meet his nephew's eyes. "Do not be afraid to ask. If you have questions, speak up. If not in class, then afterwards. If you need help, your friends will be there for you."

"Friends, what friends?" Gregory said, forcing his chin out of his uncle's grasp. "I can sit around the other boys in my year in my house. Malfoy lets Crabbe and me sit with him, I'm practically his body guard, but he talks to me, not talks with me. I might as well be the wall. He didn't bother to invite me to the ball. Grandmother got invited, Parkinson got invited, even Greengrass was there. But I didn't. Crabbe didn't. We're left out in the cold, only good for our muscle."

"Maybe you will next time," Aodh said. "Ask for the real story of the Malfoy Ball when you see Draco again. Do not listen to a word from your grandmother. I'm afraid that Mum let her mouth get the family in trouble again. There is a reason I took up the forge. Anyway, I doubt that Draco even knew that you might want to go. I'm sure if he knew, you would have been invited. After all, he invited Gryffindors!"

"Yeah, maybe," Gregory said.

"Gregory, you have talent. You can do amazing things. You just have to ask, to put your hand out over the flames. Don't fear the fire, Gregory. Let the forge give you its warmth. Let it heat you. Let the hammer drive out your fears and worries as you rest on the anvil. Do not stay back in the corner. Take up the bellows, ask for help. Step out and show what you can do, who you are, and what you can be.

"You are Gregory Goyle, of the Goyles of Skye. You are a son of the forge. The fire burns deeply in us. Don't let it go out. Do not become a mere cold iron sword. When you get on the Hogwarts Express, do not huddle in the compartment. Go and find what you need to become."


	2. The Power of Steam

_**Author's Note:**_ _And so the Slytherin Side Story to_ Ritually Yours _begins. (_ Promethues Unbound _being the Malfoy side story.) You can look forward to subplots involving the Malfoys, Julie and Victoria especially, along side some true improvements to the first year Slytherins. After all, the Gryffindors can't be the only ones to challenge Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick will be most disappointed by the final class ranks._

 _This chapter has been improved by the feedback of drwho13, Corin Wolfkin, and of course the irreplaceable and indefatigable Jim Trigg._

 _Enjoy my Feast of Stephen (Or Boxing Day if you're across the pond) gift this year._

* * *

 **The Power of Steam**

The Hogwarts Express pulled away from platform nine and three quarters at a quarter after eleven. When it came to the holidays, the schedule tended to slide a bit. Draco stretched out on one side of the compartment. Victoria was already yawning across from him.

Everything had changed since the Hogwarts Express had pulled into nine and three quarters before Yule. He'd been an absolute jerk before Christmas. Draco knew he was wrong now, thanks mainly to his half sister, but at the time he'd felt that it was his right to rule Slytherin, and he had, at least in his year.

He'd been the Heir to the Heir to the House of Malfoy, a Slytherin family almost without par. And since there was no Black, Gaunt, or Slytherin at Hogwarts, nor was there likely to be one, the last two having died out, and he, through his mother was the closest thing to a Black in his house, he felt that was his right. Draco had believed he was above everyone. He'd even convinced himself that Potter was nothing special.

Then he found out about his sisters. Victoria hadn't told him much about how she got pregnant, but Julie had told him how she'd been raped, after one really bad nightmare. He'd held Julie close while his half sister had told him about the day. It was something that deeply disturbed him when he'd heard about it. It was just something that he could not conceive of happening, especially to someone he knew.

Draco had been an only child, until his father's first wife had returned from the muggle world where his grandfather had exiled her. Now he wasn't, and after Christmas, he didn't want to be one anymore. Something about celebrating the holiday with his half-siblings had cemented them in his life.

There was little Joseph, not even two yet, who would toddle up to Draco and ask Draco to read. Sometimes it was a bit annoying, but when Joseph sat in Draco's lap and looked up at him with that smile, well it was hard not to smile back.

Then there was Judith, the little chess genius. It was apparently in the genes, given that mother Erlene was a magical chess Grandmaster. He'd been a fool to go in with Julie to get her own magical chess set, and had certainly paid the price. It was a good thing that they had purchased the set that would play against you. Not that she was just a chess player. Their father had given her a rocking horse that Julie would ride all over the manor. Draco had been almost run over more than once.

There was Junior, the not quite a ghost brother, and twin to Julie, forever five, but that was going to change, now that the ritual had been performed. By the time he returned to the manor next from school, Junior would be back, reborn. Junior was protective of his sisters, something that Draco had learnt from him. Brothers were supposed to protect their sisters. Seeing what happened to Victoria and Julie, and knowing the lengths that Junior had gone to, trying to help, Draco had to do better.

That's why Julie had the room next to Draco's, not across the hall, next to Victoria. He wanted to be there to protect her, to comfort his sister when she cried, to wake her from her nightmares. He'd been there for her since Christmas, and now he was going back to school. Now she was going to be sleeping all alone in the family wing. There would be no big brother next door. There would be no older sister across the hall, and first time in her life, the comfort of her twin, nearby, linked across the divide of life and death, was beyond her. He worried about Julie.

"Don't worry about Julie," Victoria said, suddenly. "Mum will make sure she's okay, and we do have the mirrors. I'm sure she'll contact us if she needs us."

"Yes, maybe," Draco said. Victoria's words were not reassuring. Julie was his favorite of his sisters. That didn't mean he didn't like the others, but it was Julie that he'd ended up getting to know the best. She'd pulled him into her fandom. He even had a Star Trek t-shirt in his trunk. He was sure that it would scandalize Slytherin once he wore it.

Draco looked back at Victoria. Her hand was low on her baby swollen belly, and there was a slight smile on her face. He had found out way too much about pregnancy from her. To be perfectly honest, he never wanted to hear about Victoria's cravings again. She was due in the middle of March, though, and he'd be an uncle then. He'd put his own suggestions in for the name of the boy. He knew what was out. There was no way anyone was going to be named after his Grandfather again. Not after the evil he'd brought into the family.

"So what is the chance of Tiberius, really?" Draco asked. "Now that you don't have to placate Julie."

"About as much chance as me naming him after you," Victoria said, as someone knocked on the compartment door.

Draco opened the compartment door, revealing Gregory Goyle, standing there, his hands folded and looking nervous. "What is it, Goyle?"

"Professor Snape said I should talk to you about getting some help studying," Goyle said, not meeting Draco's eyes.

"Both you and Crabbe need it," Draco said. Then he noticed his sister's glare. "Come, in and sit down, Greg. This is my elder half sister, Victoria Malfoy. I don't think you've been properly introduced to her before. Victoria, this is Gregory Goyle, of the Goyles of Skye. If you really want something moved, and can't use magic to do so, he's the one to call."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Goyle," Victoria responded. "And do take a seat. We have a long journey ahead of us."

As Goyle took his seat next to Victoria, Draco got up to close the door. Something made him look out first, and he spotted the Gryffindor Fifth-Year Boy Prefect. Draco really had no idea how to do this study thing. But the Gryffindor first years had arranged things, and certainly Percy Weasley would know how they did it. "Prefect?" Draco called out.

"Yes, Malfoy?" Percy said.

Draco took a deep breath, and tried to be as polite as Victoria had insisted that he should. "Do you have a few minutes? Professor Snape wants me to arrange a study group for my year, and I don't know how. I know the Gryffindor first years have one, and I thought you might know how they do it?" The sentence had come out in a rush, and somehow he was more nervous than he'd been waiting his turn to go under the Sorting Hat.

"I do have just a few minutes built into my patrol times," Percy said. "I can give you some advice, but wouldn't it be better ask one of the first years in Gryffindor, though? They are in the compartment next door."

Draco thought for a just a moment. Most of Gryffindor would see him as he'd been last term. Thanks to his sister, he knew his behavior towards them had been entirely unacceptable. He'd talked to Potter a bit over break, but hadn't apologized, though Potter seemed to not really need that. Victoria said it was because Potter had been abused, and really wanted to be liked, so he'd overlook what he shouldn't really. Potter was with his year in Gryffindor at the moment, though, and Draco couldn't do it in front of everyone, though he knew he really should.

As Draco pondered his response, the voice of Seamus Finnigan escaped from the compartment next door. "Adeste Fideles..."

"I don't think want to interrupt Finnigan," Draco finally replied.

"I can see that," Percy replied. "Merlin knows I've stopped work to listen to him sing before. You should hear him sing Calon lan." He looked into the compartment. "I take it that Goyle and Crabbe are the chief students in need?" He nodded at Goyle. "It's good to see you asking for help, Gregory."

Draco was a bit surprised that Percy used Goyle's first name. That just wasn't done, though now that he thought about it, the Gryffindors in his first year were all using their first names with each other. "Yes, come sit down," Draco said, stepping back into the compartment and sitting down next to the door. Percy found a seat next to him.

"Now, first thing you have to know is, who is the best at each subject, and who can explain it the best," Percy began. "Hermione Granger is the best at most of the subjects, but sometimes she just can't explain it. She has a particularly hard time with explaining charms for some reason. And there is a difference between practical and theory."

Percy pulled out an orange book with a big P on the front. He started to page through it, as Draco tried to see the title. It took a bit before he caught the right glimpse. "Prefect's Handbook," it read.

"Ah, here we go, first year rankings by subject," Percy said. "Now, don't tell anyone that the prefects have this. It's secret. We don't know your actual grades, but these pages tell us your current class ranking in each subject and if you're failing a subject, or overall. I can see my own, my brothers, and Penny's grades, but that's all. I can see why Professor Snape chose you, as you are the current best Slytherin in your year.

"It looks like you're tied for first in your Astronomy Practical grade at the moment with Perks and Granger. That's all you lead your year in. In Slytherin, however, you lead in Charms, Potions Theory, Defense, Astronomy, and History."

"Who leads in Transfiguration, Herbology, and Flying?" Draco asked.

"Davis in Transfiguration Theory and Flying, Greengrass in Herbology," Percy said. "Zabini leads in Potions Practical, and is tied with you for Theory. Bulstrode has Transfiguration Practical."

"Davis is good," Victoria said. "And if you didn't expect Greengrass to be leading in Herbology, you weren't listening to her name."

"The name doesn't mean anything when it comes to grades," Draco shot back, quoting what she'd said to him only a week ago.

"True," Percy said. "Get together with those, and find out what each of you are willing to handle. My first years split the subjects up, practical and theory, none of them taking more than three subjects. I think you should do the same. Set the study sessions for a little every day, even the weekends ... especially the weekends. Don't let anything that isn't study go on in the study area. Music is allowed, but nothing that has words..."

* * *

Julie Malfoy had been too tired to accompany Victoria and Draco to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. She had wanted to see the train, to see her older siblings off, but the ritual to start the restoration of her twin brother, stripping the lobe of his soul that she had unknowingly held from her, and confining Junior to her mother's womb so he could be born again, left her feeling really weak. So she'd taken a nap as soon as they had left for the platform.

The worst part was she was too weak to go up in the tower where they had put the telly. That wouldn't have been so bad, when her older siblings were next door, but she was the only one in the wing, save maybe a couple house elves. It was going to be so boring now that Victoria and Draco were at Hogwarts. Junior wouldn't be reborn for another month, almost, and it would be another five before he was five again and took the other suite on Julie and Draco's side of the hall.

According to her new Dad, you didn't get your own room until you were five, which meant that Judith and Joseph were way on the other side of the house near the parents' room, in the nursery. She had thought that was a good thing, but she would have killed for a good game of chess, even if she lost every time instead of sitting alone in her room with nothing to do. She'd even done the extra credit assignment for school, a school she wasn't sure she was going back to.

She was supposed to call for Dobby if she needed anything. She'd only seen Dobby once, and didn't see how the House elf could even be within earshot. Her room was practically sound proof, though for some reason you could hear the song birds in the garden. Julie suspected that was deliberate.

It was mid-afternoon. She'd got breakfast in bed, and taken a bath in her own bathroom. She loved her bathroom, especially the bubble bath in the large tub that she could submerge herself in. Being able to soak in the always perfectly warm water as long as she wanted, it was pure bliss. Julie figured that she'd spent at least forty-five minutes today, leaving her fingers all wrinkly from the water.

Julie had dried herself off, brushed her hair, and then returned to her bed. She hadn't dressed. It felt a bit naughty to stay that way, and it wasn't like anyone was going to visit her this afternoon. The parents had told her that they wouldn't be home until around three. Mum had an appointment at Saint Mungo's, wherever and whatever that was, so it wasn't like she would be caught, as long as she checked the clock every once in a while. The room was nice and warm, and it kind of felt nice when she was between her silk sheets, naked.

Her now well thumbed copy of Mr. Scott's Guide to the Enterprise had just been tossed onto her night stand. It could only be read so many times. She really didn't want to read more. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn't asked for lunch yet, and it was half past one. Julie pulled up her covers a bit, before calling out, "Dobby."

The house elf, just about as tall as Julie's sister Judith, appeared. "Mistress Juliet called?"

"Can I have my lunch now," Julie asked. "Out on the balcony?"

"Dobby can do," Dobby replied. "Does Mistress Juliet wish for the comfy chair?"

"I do," Julie said.

"Dobby will move it," Dobby said, before snapping his fingers. "Dobby thinks Mistress Juliet needs thick robe on balcony today." A green robe appeared at the foot of Juliet's bed. "Dobby will have everything ready in five minutes." Then Dobby disappeared.

Julie slid out from under her covers, and picked up the robe. Wizarding robes were nothing like bathrobes, like she'd first imagined when she'd heard the term. This one was far from it. She slid her hands into the sleeves and then brought the shoulders up. The under flap buttoned right on her right shoulder, and the over flap had a hidden row of hooks on the right side to keep it closed. She slid on her very warm slippers that her mum had given her for Christmas, and exited her room for the balcony.

The comfy chair was already on the balcony. It was rather old, having come from the Price apartment. It was a rather old shade of greenish gold, and across its back in black print was written, "Approved torture device by the Spanish Inquisition." The text had been there when it had been purchased probably fifth or sixth hand. It looked awful, with stains all over it, but was the comfy chair, and everyone wanted to sit in it.

Julie sat down with a big sigh. She loved the comfy chair. Moments later a table materialized over her lap, followed by her lunch. Julie knew she had no choice in her lunch, not when she was recovering from a ritual, but she could have done without the carrots. Julie hated carrots, and her mother never ever let her skip them.

Dobby appeared, unbidden along with her dinner. "Dobby forgot to ask. Mistress Erlene said to offer choice of strawberry cheesecake or chocolate cake for dessert. Dobby will iron his hands for forgetting."

"Cheesecake, Dobby," Julie said. "And can you bring out the record player to play some music while I eat."

"What composer should Dobby put on?" the house elf asked.

Julie considered it a bit for a moment. There were a lot of possibilities in the Malfoy record library, most of them a bit old, really. Fortunately, the Price record collection had been added. "Goldsmith, Jerry Goldsmith. There should be one called Star Trek: the Motion Picture."

"Dobby will find it," Dobby said. "Dessert will arrive when your plate is empty."

Moments later the record player arrived, an old one with a horn for a speaker, that provided surprisingly good sound, even with the blaster beam. Listening to the main title theme and Klingon Battle, outside in the country, just outside her own gigantic room. Julie had to admit to herself that she had things pretty good right now, even if she had to eat the carrots.

* * *

"Millicent, maybe you can explain it to Gregory better than I can," Malfoy said suddenly, interrupting Millicent Bulstrode's quiet time studying her Herbology. She was determined not to fail, and this new room that Professor Snape had arranged for the First Years to study in off the common room was perfect for studying. She hadn't expected Malfoy to interrupt her.

She definitely hadn't expected him to use her first name. That was just not done. She was Bulstrode to her classmates. None of them were close enough to call her Millicent. If one of them had called her Milli, she would have pounded them into the nearest wall. It was Malfoy, though. He got away with a lot of things, just because of who his father was. It wasn't fair, but Slytherin wasn't about being fair. If you wanted fairness, you'd ask to be sorted into Hufflepuff. She was annoyed at Malfoy's new habit of using first names, though.

Millicent tried to ignore the prompt, but when she looked up and saw Goyle's plaintive expression, she couldn't. She was too soft. "What's the problem?"

"Gregory is having trouble transfiguring wooden blocks into goblets," Malfoy said. "Same with Vincent, though not as bad. I'm having a hard time explaining it to them."

"Goyle," Millicent said sharply. "You like to carve figures, right?" Goyle nodded. "You're a Goyle of Skye, so you know what metal is like, in the forge?" He nodded again.

"Then what's wrong with the metal you've got in front of you ... not shape wise, but as metal."

"It's too soft, I think it's lead."

"Then for Merlin's sake, don't drink from it ... assuming that water would stay in it, you don't need to be dumb," Millicent replied, prodding the misshapen goblet with her wand. "Close your eyes. I want you to think of steel, like one of your family's swords. Imagine how it moved when it was heated. Remember how it would be shaped in the mold, before it was dosed in water. Now open your eyes, just a bit, and tap the block of wood in front of you, imagining it changing, flowing into the shape you imagined, and say the word."

Millicent watched as the block changed from a hunk of oak to a tall cylinder shaped cup, so shiny that she could see her reflection in it.

"Now, open them all the way, and look."

Goyle looked at it, and flicked its side. It made a soft clear ping. "I did it."

"Yes, You just have to really know what you want," Millicent said. She took a deep breath, and gathered her thoughts. "That's the key to transfiguration. Know what you want, not just abstractly, but really know it. The better you know what it should be, the better you can do it."

"Really?" Goyle said.

"And with those figures you carve, I'm pretty certain you can do a lot better," Millicent said. She'd seen him carving figures out of sticks in the common room. They were actually quite good, even before he handed them off to Crabbe to be painted. "You're a Goyle, you know metal, you know how to shape stuff. You just need to remember to keep that in mind when you try to transfigure stuff."

"So you have to know what you want it to be like to change it?" Crabbe suddenly said, causing Millicent to look at him. She'd never seen Crabbe when he figured something out, but as she looked at him, with his uncharacteristic smile and wide eyes, she somehow knew that he understood.

"Exactly!" Millicent said, as Crabbe transfigured his block of wood into a painted tin goblet.

After a few more minutes of walking Crabbe and Goyle through transfiguration, Millicent sat down and returned to her Herbology. "Thanks Millicent," Malfoy said. "I just wasn't getting through, and I thought you might be able to help. Professor Snape told me I was responsible for their tutoring, and I don't want to fail."

"No one wants to fail," Millicent muttered, trying to return to her quiet place. "I hate Herbology."

"You need some help with that?" Draco asked, moving so he was looking over her shoulder.

"I've seen you in Herbology, Malfoy," Millicent replied. "I'll get through it myself."

"Daphne," Malfoy called out. "I think Millicent needs some help with her Herbology essay."

Millicent was glad when Malfoy moved off to work with Parkinson, but that relief disappeared the moment Greengrass sat down beside her. Greengrass was a tomboy, and it showed. She wasn't wearing a blouse, she was wearing a shirt. She smelled of fresh cut grass, which given her name wasn't exactly out of place. Her hair was back in a pony tail, and she had practically bounced across the room to take the seat next to Millicent.

Millicent was not a tomboy. She was a good girl. She knew she wouldn't be some ravishing beauty when she grew up. She was too stocky, and the most flattering word that could be used to describe her face was plain. That didn't mean that she didn't try to look good. Weasley had said she looked like a troll, and that had hurt her badly. She'd tried a few spells to look better, but she wasn't very good at them. Why were so many hair care charms too advanced for first years?

"I think I see your problem," Greengrass said, interrupting Millicent's musing. "You've got Quercus robur mixed up with Quercus petraea. Easy to do, they do overlap in range. Petraea doesn't have a stalk to its acorn, and likes higher places and can tolerate acidic and sandy ground." She pointed to a particular paragraph. "Get rid of this paragraph, and look at page one seventy-two for the answer to the third part."

"Thanks," Millicent said, looking over page one seventy-two. How had she missed that page?

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study going over the accounts. Gaining three daughters and one son, plus a ghost turning into his middle son soon had changed expenses a little. Getting rid of the expenses for taking care of his unlamented father more than covered it, though. The Malfoy family was not strapped for cash in any case. He could afford a family twice as large as the Weasleys' without any issue.

He looked up at the pictures he had put on his desk. They were pictures of his eldest three children from the Malfoy New Years Ball. Lucius had enjoyed the ball, dancing nearly as much as his middle daughter and eldest son did.

His middle daughter Juliet Antonia Malfoy was the subject of the first of the pictures he'd let himself be distracted from accounting with. Julie, as she insisted on being called, was dressed in a classic red and green gown, much more mature looking than he really thought an eight-year-old (almost nine!) should be wearing. The photographer he'd hired for the ball had caught his daughter dancing with Harry Potter, as she twirled across the ball room he could see the glee on her face, and the laughter in her eyes.

The next picture was his son, Draco, dancing with Pansy Parkinson. There was an understanding with her parents, not quite an arrangement, but Draco and Pansy knew that their parents would prefer them to get together. There wasn't as much laughter in that dance, but it was obvious that it was no chore for Draco to dance with Pansy. He was ever grateful, however that someone had stopped Pansy from wearing one of her favored pink monstrosities of a dress. There were so many pictures of the two with her in one of those awful pink things dancing with Draco that he'd tossed because he simply couldn't stand the color.

Then there was his eldest, Victoria. His pregnant teenage daughter who none the less seemed to be dancing on air with Journeyman Ollivander, then passed off to Draco, then to Potter, before back to Ollivander. He loved to see that smile on his daughter's face, the carefree expression on a girl who had been forced to be all too serious by circumstance. She'd been most wanted and long unknown, but she was his, acknowledged as Heiress Presumptive until Draco was of age.

Victoria had taken the role to heart, and some. She'd gotten through to Draco about relying too much on threats from on high before Lucius had even realized that it was a problem. If for some reason he passed on before Draco was of age, Lucius knew already that the Noble House of Malfoy would be in good hands.

He had two, no three, once Junior was reborn, pictures to add to his desk. He thought perhaps he should see about having some pictures of Judith taken while she was playing chess, or perhaps he should follow her instructions and make a big chess set for her to play on the east patio, with its alternating sixty-four squares. Judith had taken one look at the large pavers and wondered where the chess pieces were for it. His littlest girl was a tad chess obsessed.

Junior's picture would have to wait for his rebirth. It had been two weeks since his soul had been ritually re-implanted inside his mother, and would be another two before he would be born again. Erlene was already waddling and showing that she was having him again. He would be born again on the third of February, but it would be July before he was back to the five he'd been when he'd partially "died."

He'd probably wait to do his youngest Joseph's picture until then, as well. Joseph was only seventeen months old, and as the current youngest in the manor, Lucius hadn't really spent much time with the toddler. There wasn't much to say about him yet, but he was still young. Lucius was sure that he'd be as an outstanding a young man as Draco was becoming, and Junior had shown himself capable of.

"Lucius?" Narcissa said from the doorway.

"Come in, my lady," Lucius said.

"I do not wish to disturb you, my lord," Narcissa in a formal tone that he had not heard from her in quite some time. It was almost as if she'd regressed to that time when they'd been united by contract, not the woman he'd grown to love. It was as if she had regressed due to the return of Lucius's first love.

"You do not disturb me," Lucius said, trying to think what he could say to reassure her. "I'm afraid that I'm already quite distracted." Lucius smiled. "I'm afraid that it may have been a bad decision to add the children's pictures to my desk. They've been quite distracting."

"They are," Narcissa said, with a big smile, one that he had not seen, really, since she'd held Draco for the first time. "And by October you'll have another."

"You mean you're pregnant?" Lucius asked. Narcissa nodded. He hadn't expected that. Erlene had told him that she expected him to try to get Narcissa pregnant again, in fact had insisted that the necessary time be taken. He hadn't expected it to happen, especially not so quickly. After all they'd tried several times after Draco had been born and not been successful ... until now.

Lucius picked Narcissa up in his arms and began to swing her around the study, planting a kiss firmly on her lips. "Lucius, put me down," Narcissa giggled, as his hands found her ticklish spots even as he swung her around. Then down onto the desk he let her.

"I think I shall," Lucius said, as he silently banished his second wife's robes. Then whispering into her ears he said, "Never forget how much I've grown to love you, my lady."

Lucius did not go back to the family accounts that day. He had far more important things to take care of. By dinner time Narcissa was quite well taken care of.

* * *

It was the third week of classes of the winter term, and Severus Snape was prepared for some reactions from his Slytherins. It was a Tuesday, which meant his first class of the day this term was First Year Slytherin/Gryffindor, or at least it usually was. Only Slytherins were gathering in his classroom in the dungeons. Snape was quite fine with that.

"Please move forward, gentlemen," Severus said noticing that there was a blank row now without Gryffindor. He needed everyone at a different table this week as well. "This is now a purely Slytherin class, at least for now. Please move to the table with the folder with your name on it."

"Where are Potter and his admirers?" Draco drawled.

Severus shook his head. He'd so hoped that Draco would get past his obsession with Potter. Any other one of his Slytherins would have just asked where the Gryffindors were. It had to be answered though. "After discussion with the Headmaster, it was decided that this class needed to be split. The Gryffindors are currently being taught by him."

"Lucky Gryffindors," Zabini said.

"The next four classes you will be completing and bottling your potions for judging by the Headmaster, Professor Emeritus Slughorn, and myself," Severus said. "There are three slots left in the Headmaster's class. Regrettably, I do not believe that more than one of you will earn this position. Each of you have been assigned a number to label your potion with. I've asked a prefect to provide them so I do not know whose potion is whose. You should each find the number inside the folder. At the end of class you will not be taking it up to the front. Instead place it on top of the folder. I will remain available for questions. Instructions are on the board, begin."

Severus began his usual stalk of the students as they started to prepare their potions. This was not a potion that was done in pairs. It also wasn't a simple one, but if it had been they wouldn't have been a good test. He was pretty sure that Goyle and Crabbe would fail it outright. The best ones would be Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott. Davis could surprise him.

The potions lab was quiet, allowing him to hear the simmering of the potions over the open flame. A scent of wintergreen wafted through the room as a green mist spilled over the edge of the cauldrons. No one asked questions, which worried Severus a bit. Usually the questions from the Gryffindors drove the class, allowing him to impart wisdom while venting his annoyance with the dunderheads in his class. Of course soon he'd just have the dunderheads in this class session.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were going to brew the same potions later in the afternoon. He wasn't expecting any of the Ravenclaws to be in contention for the three slots in Albus's class. Bones had one of the slots sown up. It really would be down to Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Davis, Jones, Abbot, or McMillian for the other two slots. The plan was for 13 in Albus's advance class. Then the early class, which had been the Gryffindor/Slytherin class would take 10 to 13 of the worst and the remaining would be attending the late class.

The idea of trying ability splits for the second term was an interesting one. Severus knew that it was the way that it was done in muggle classes, having grown up in that world. He wasn't sure how it was going to be with the early class, but due to a trick of scheduling, he'd actually have just a bit more time working with them. Maybe he might just find a way to bring them up to a higher level with the extra time. He wouldn't have to use the same potions for every class, though his classes final exam would be written by Albus and Albus's class's final would be one of Severus's old ones, picked at random.

The class came to a close, with every student managing to complete the potion. A scan of the bottled potions led Severus to drop Nott from his list, and up Davis's chances a bit. He watched his Slytherins clean up a bit and exit, before Percy Weasley came in to label and collect the potions.

"Weasley," Severus acknowledged. The Gryffindor Fifth-year prefect had been assigned the task of making sure the potions were not easily identified as to who made them. Severus figured he'd still know a couple, though. He turned away but, then deciding that he really shouldn't be so dismissive of a prefect, he asked. "How is your wife?"

"Complaining about what I did to her as usual," Weasley replied. "Penny's having twins, you know. Will she be able to come to tomorrow morning's potion's class?"

"Tomorrow's potion is safe, so yes," Severus said. "Let me know when Professor Slughorn arrives this afternoon. Oh, have your wife bring a few extra bottles. The potion we're making is helps with morning sickness."

"I will," Percy said. "Thank you, Professor."

Severus turned and walked out of the potions lab. He had another ten minutes before the next class, just long enough to get a cup of tea.


	3. The Smoldering Hearth

_**Author's Note**_ _: This story got delayed just a bit when I realized that I'd messed up the sequence of events in my outline of scenes. Fixing it required that this chapter become tightly focused on the Julie story line. I had to move a couple scenes focused on other Slytherins later in the story, but as a result I think the overall plot should be better. The next chapter will likely come a lot sooner than this one did, unless the muse moves to another story._

 _Unfortunately I didn't get as much of a response from my beta readers on this story so there may be more errors than usual. Please PM me if you spot any._

* * *

 **The Smoldering Hearth**

Julie was quite looking forward to her arrival at school. There wasn't a school near the Malfoy Manor and her mother hadn't wanted to pull her out of school anyway, at least until the end of the year. Julie was all for remaining at her school, even if she wasn't one of the popular girls at the school. She admitted to herself that she was quite often the girl ignored, especially after spending her second year of schooling recovering from the loss of her twin brother. (Who was coming back to life, hooray!)

She was a good student, who got good grades. True, she wasn't known for wearing the latest clothing, and was literally from the other side of the tracks from the school and where the popular girls and boys lived, but all that was about to change. Today she was going to arrive in the Wyvern. Riding in the back seat of the 1948 Vauxhall Wyvern was fun. Well, she kind of wished she could have sat in the front seat, but her mother was sitting there as her real father drove after a port key to some place just off the M4. Maybe she'd get to ride there on the way home after school. Her father had promised to take her to and home from school every day, at least 'for the foreseeable future.'

The deep green Vauxhall pulled up in front of her school in Houndslow, and Julie got out, being careful not to scuff up her brand new black school shoes. She had on a brand new wool gray skirt, white silk shirt, and red cardigan with the school logo on it. It was a lot better than the worn handed down outfit that she'd worn before the Christmas Break.

As she stepped on to the walk towards the front entrance, Julie spotted one of those popular girls just ahead of her. She put on a big smile and called out, "Good Morning Cassie."

"It's Cassandra, wench," Cassandra Winton-Henke shot back, even though she had told everyone to call her Cassie. Cassandra was one of those that called Julie 'wench' because her mother had once worked as a barmaid. It had been the invention of William Morley, and had unfortunately caught on. Most of the sting of the name had died, but it still hurt Julie at bit to be called it.

Cassandra turned to look back at Julie, her brief glance when returning the greeting having made her do a double take. "Oh, the wench has new clothes. Mummy must have got a new rich boyfriend. Bet she..."

"Young lady, I suggest you stop there," the Headmistress said. "Good Morning Mrs. Price."

"It's Mrs. Malfoy now," Julie's mother said, placing her hand on Julie's shoulders. "It's a long story, but Fenton is no longer in my family's life and is currently a guest of the Queen. I've returned to the Malfoy family, and need to update the authorized list so that Lord Malfoy can pick Julie up this afternoon."

"Certainly, Ms. Malfoy," the Headmistress said. "Miss Price, Miss Winton-Henke, head along to your class room. There are only a couple minutes left until classes began."

Julie headed into the school, down the corridor, and into Mrs. Chou's classroom. Mrs. Chou was already standing in front of the black board, and about a third of the class seemed to have found their seats. Cassandra headed for the closet and her friends. Julie did not follow them. She hadn't worn a coat, and her intention of trying to be friends with the popular girls now that she wasn't in hand-me-down uniforms any more, had been temporarily shelved by Cassandra's reaction.

"Is that a new hair clip, Julie?" Mrs. Chou asked.

"Yes, my sister Victoria got it for me for Christmas," Julie said with a smile, turning slightly so the jade and sliver clip could be seen better by her teacher.

"Please convey my thanks to your sister Victoria for her letter," Mrs. Chou said. "It is always nice to know that you've had some effect on your students."

"Victoria says if she has a girl, she wants to name it after you, no matter how bad Allison sounds with whatever last name she has," Julie said, with a smile. She didn't tell Mrs. Chou that Victoria was pregnant. It didn't feel right to do so, if Victoria hadn't told her already in her letter.

"Well, I always said I didn't marry Mr. Chou for his last name," Mrs. Chou said. "Everyone, sit down. It's time for Mathematics."

* * *

Erlene had not intended on picking up Julie from school. With Junior inside her again, she was already starting to show a bit, or would be if she hadn't decided on wearing a particularly baggy outfit to pick Julie up. It would probably be the last time she left Malfoy Manor for the rest of the month, so when Lucius had run into some issues at the Ministry, she'd taken the Wyvern and headed off to Houndslow. She was a bit behind Julie's usual pick up time, but not that much, maybe a couple minutes late.

The Headmistress was standing with Julie when she pulled up. In Erlene's experience, that was never a good sign. She turned off the car and pulled on the brake, as Julie and the headmistress approached. It looked like Julie had been crying, which wasn't a good sign either. Erlene rolled down the window. "Is there something wrong, Headmistress," she asked.

"I'm afraid that I must apologize to you, Mrs. Malfoy," the Headmistress said. "I'm afraid there was an incident today involving what turned out to be an illegal interview of your daughter by Mr. Price's lawyers, one of which claimed to be the CPS advocate."

"I think I'm going to need to come in to hear this," Erlene said, turning off the engine.

"I think so," the Headmistress said. "But I want you to know before we even start that we have already filed a complaint, which we would like you to join us in, against the firm of Cattivafede and Bugia."

"I'm afraid that firm is about to have quite a bit of trouble," Erlene replied, getting out of the Wyvern. "Julie, are you okay?"

Her little jewel looked up at her, trails of tears still visible on her face, but with an expression of defiance. "No, but I will be," she said, quoting something that her sister Victoria had said several times.

"Well, then, let's get started on making you better," Erlene said as they were led back into the school and into the Headmistress's Office. "Oh, and Headmistress, I'm afraid that the firm in question may soon find that it will have to disassociate itself from the case. The retainer that Mr. Price had with them has been withdrawn by his patron's heir."

"That is quite good news, though we shall insist that the firm be sanctioned severely," the Headmistress said as they took seats around the Headmistress's desk. "Julie, would you be so kind as to repeat what you told me about Misters Cattivafede and Bugia's questioning ... and before she does, you should know that Mister Bugia was posing as a member of Child Protective Services. I strongly suspect a warrant will be issued for that, shortly, at least Officer Krupke seemed to imply that. Go ahead Julie."

"Mum, I was just finishing my Maths test when I was told to go to the office. To men were their. They told me they needed to interview me about what father had done to me. I told them, and they questioned what I said," Julie's tears resumed. "They said I lied. They told me that what happened couldn't have happened. They said father was going to take me back, and you'd go to jail instead. Then they said something about you and a Russian, I think Kutzisnutov? What ever he did it was unforgivable."

Erlene interrupted. "It wasn't a Russian, it was something that happened to your father right after his first appearance before the judge. Headmistress, you should be aware that there was an attack in the cells that resulted the loss of his ... privileges. We'll leave it at that."

"Indeed," the Headmistress said. "In any case, I entered the room shortly after the Kutzisnutov comment, and the two lawyers stories as to why they were at the school swiftly fell apart. They left rather precipitately. I decide that given your daughter's condition afterwards, I would not return her to class today, and instead we had tea together until your arrival while I worked on the appropriate response."

The statement was slid over to Erlene, and she quickly read it. "I'd be happy to join this complaint, Headmistress. I may keep Julie home for a couple days, after this, but she'll be back as so as I'm sure she won't be bothered by those lawyers."

"Quite understandable," the Headmistress replied, as Erlene added her signature. "If you will send someone by tomorrow afternoon, I will gather her assignments for the next week."

* * *

Draco figured that he shouldn't be totally surprised that he got the letter from Julie instead of Victoria. He was a bit though. It was true that he'd arranged for Julie to be next door to him, instead of across the hall next to Victoria. He'd really gotten to know Julie much better than his other half sisters over Yule Break, but still, Julie had know Victoria all her life, and both of them were girls.

Still, he'd gotten the rather messy letter with tear drops dotting the parchment, telling him exactly what Fenton Price's lawyers had said to her. No one should talk to his sisters like that. No one should talk to anyone's sister's like that. That was something he was quite sure off, even if the narrative had several obvious misunderstandings. It was obvious that it wasn't a Russian and her mother Erlene doing something, but an accusation that his mother had cut Fenton Price's nuts off. He'd crossed his legs protectively when that line had come up, even though he knew that Fenton had deserved it. After all, he'd somehow become the confidant for both Julie and Junior, and knew all that had been done to them by their "father."

He'd passed the letter off to Victoria when he returned to the common room, and then sat down at a table trying to figure out what he'd write back. It had to be good. As thought about that, a trio of third year boys took a seat at a couch that the table was backed up against. A quick glance up at the noise they'd made allowed him to identify them. He'd once cowed Claudio Cattivafede, Warwick Nelson, and Donovan Dewar by throwing his father's name around. That hadn't been a good idea, he knew now.

"Father told me he just took a case where a witch married a muggle," Cattivafede said, as he sat down on the end of the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. "Apparently the witch now claims that the muggle raped their daughters, even getting the eldest pregnant, and now wants a divorce and full custody of their mudblood children. Father's not going to let that happen though. He's going to make sure the blood traitor loses everything."

"Blood traitor deserves it," Nelson said. "They probably opened their legs for him."

"Mating with muggles, disgusting," Dewar commented. "They deserve to be tortured and killed."

At one time Draco probably would have nodded at all three of the older boy's comments, and around the common room, there were several boys that were doing just that. It was obvious, though, that Claudio Cattivafede was talking about his sister, and over Yule, Draco had changed. His chair scraped against the tile of the common room as he stood. He could not let this stand.

"It seems that the Cattivafede Branch Family has no honor," Draco said, drawing up to his full four feet ten inch height moving to stand at the end of the couch. "It is obvious that the Malfoy family shall have to disassociate itself from a firm that can not understand that so many things are wrong."

"You're not threat, Malfoy," Cattivafede said, still seated, casually looking up at Draco. "You're not the heir of the family anymore. I doubt your father even listens to you. You just go on about waiting until your father hears about this, and nothing happens."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong," Draco said "You see, the Malfoy family side of this is not with the disgusting muggle that you seem to think should be supported as a way to get back at a blood traitor. You see, I know the full story that your father didn't tell you. And I think my father will quite approve what I'm going to do to you, and you know why?"

"Why?" Cattivafede asked, still lolling back on the couch.

"Because standing up for your family is something that my father believes in." And with that, he flipped his wrist, allowing his wand to leave the holster that Victoria had given him for Christmas. "Petrifectus Totalus! Wingarduim Leviosa!" All three boys' legs locked together and their arms fused against their now stiff straight bodies.. Draco shot the Cattivafede up to the ceiling, and the immediately back down, busting his nose against the ceiling. Then he levitated the boy up into the chandler, a large wheel like structure festooned with candles. "Habena Braccas!" From under Cattivafede's robes a pair of boxers emerged, scarlet, festooned with of all things cartoon lions. Draco was sure that even after his justice was over those boxers would be the talk of the house.

"I shall leave you two down here," Draco continued. "I suggest that when the bindings end, you remind your friend Sanctimonia Vincet Semper, leaving the judgement of purity to those dedicated to upload it ... and it is advisable not to be on the wrong side of a Malfoy. Don't insult my sisters or my father's first wife again."

With that, Draco went back to the table and picked up his stuff. As he headed back to the dorm room, he heard Victoria speak up, causing him to pause, just out of sight of the common room. "It seems that Draco has been practicing. You do know that only Potter is better at practicums in his year? Oh, and that our father has been tutoring him for years? I'm pretty sure that you remember who our Father is? You may have heard that this past November he won the British Open Dueling Championship? He left his last opponent in tears and having soiled himself. Father intends that Draco will follow in his footsteps. That's why gentlemen, you never tickle a sleeping dragon, or my little brother ... or me. I'm a lot more evil."

* * *

Professor Severus Snape looked up at Claudio Cattivafede. The third year was clinging to the chandelier like his life depended on it. There were splashes of green wax from the everlasting candles that had long been installed in the Slytherin Common Room on his naked body. It was obvious that his body had a few first degree burns not associated with the candle wax. There was a pile of ash below the chandelier, probably Cattivafede's clothes, though there was a pair of boxers over the top of a candlestick that Snape was sure was owned by the boy. It was not a good choice.

He'd been summoned to the common room by the boy's friends, and received an obviously biased story from them about how Draco had attacked them without provocation. Snape knew better. He didn't even have to read their minds. There were always the little giveaways, ticks and phrasing that led him to doubt what they said. Being able to read their minds just gave him a way to confirm that he was right about them lying to him.

The aforementioned duo, Warwick Nelson and Donovan Dewar had come to his office in their underwear. The dungeon's passageways were generally a bit warmer than those up around the towers that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw lived in, so going from the Common Room to Snape's office wasn't chilling in just their boxers. That was not the case where he'd punished them for lying to him.

Snape decided that he wouldn't even give Mister Cattivafede the chance to lie to him, especially since the Common Room still had witnesses, including two of the First Years, Zabini and Greengrass. "Stay silent if you value your evenings, Cattivafede. Your friends Nelson and Dewar are busy cleaning the Divination Class Room. It seems that Professor Trelawney stopped by my office just as I was about to see to their punishment for lying to me. She had foreseen that I would have two strong young wizards to assist her in some cleaning of her classroom and office."

"But the Malfoys ..." Cattivafede began.

"Don't dig yourself a hole, Mister Cattivafede," Snape snapped. "I do not think you realize how much trouble you have made for yourself and your father by discussing in front of one of the affected parties a case that he is involved in. Add to that, the fact that your father is part of the firm that is primarily employed by the Malfoy Family as their solicitors, and it was members of the Malfoy family that you called mudbloods. Oh, and the witch who is their mother and Lucius Malfoy's first wife? She was born Erlene Prince, and happens to be my first cousin once removed. So you have also earned my disdain.

"Your loose lips have cost many tonight. They will continue to do so, even if you do not say a single word again. Be glad that Miss Malfoy did not decide to silence your vocal cords forever, as it is well within her capabilities."

Snape could tell that Cattivafede was thinking now, and wouldn't be protesting for a while. He silently levitated the boy down from chandelier. The boy stood up and Snape conjured a robe to cover him, only for it to slide off his body. "It sees that Miss Malfoy cast a persistent stripping charm, probably due to emotional distress enhanced by pregnancy hormones. Do hope it wears off before morning."

"Or wears off at all," Blaise Zabini said from the table where he was working on his Herbology Assignment.

Snape's left eyebrow rose. He considered the possibility. Then decided that some time having to deal with the embarrassment would assist Cattivafede with the learning experience. It was Friday night. If Cattivafede still couldn't keep anything on by lunch time Saturday he'd reverse it. Until then, a public point that the punishment that the Malfoys had dealt to their solicitor's son was warranted and considered within Snape's expectations needed to be made. It was still three hours before third years were usually sent off to bed.

"Have you finished today's Potions assignment?" Snape asked. Cattivafede shook his head. "I expect an extra foot from you, and you will start work on it now. Zabini, Cattivafede is not allowed to leave the Common Room until he is either done or it is a half hour before bedtime. Cattivafede, I suggest you stay away from the Malfoys as much as possible. I shall expect you in my office before lunchtime tomorrow."

Snape watched as Cattivafede moved over to a free spot at the table that Zabini was sitting at with Greengrass, picking up his bag of books as he passed a couch. Once he was certain that Cattivafede was going to be working on the assignment, Snape turned, and with a swish of his cloak, left the Common Room.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy carefully positioned the new painting that he'd had done of his family just before Victoria and Draco returned to Hogwarts. It had just been delivered, and he thought that the artist had done a wonderful job. It was just of those that had attended the Ball, so his two youngest were missing, but he wasn't sure that either Judith or Joseph would be able to sit down long enough for a painter to sketch them. Just this morning Joseph had escaped from the bath and somehow had made it all the way to Julie's room, in an entirely different wing of the manor.

His three eldest children were front and center of the picture. Julie, being the youngest pictured, was in the center with Draco and Victoria flanking him. No attempt was made to hide Victoria's pregnancy. Lucius stood behind Julie, with Erlene on his right, and Narcissa on his left. All of them were attired in the same robes as they had worn during the Ball. He thought that both of his wives had chosen particularly fitting robes, and had been very careful to make sure that he was equal in his praise of both, to the point that both of them had called him on it.

He moved to take his seat at his desk, making sure that Julie's school identification card was causally placed where his soon to arrive visitor would spot it, with just a corner resting on his wand rest, so it tilted up to make it easier to read. It was her old one, with her old name. She had a new one that read "Juliet Antonia Malfoy." She's apparently tried to get the t dropped. Lucius didn't really see the problem with her legal first name, but it had apparently been the reason she'd turned down dancing with the scion of the Montgomery family. Someday he was going to get a response to why other than "you know."

The door opened revealing his wife Narcissa and the head of Cattivafede and Bugia, Prospero Cattivafede. Erlene was confined to the master suite at the moment due to the last couple days of her accelerated rebirth of Junior. "Solicitor Cattivafede," Narcissa introduced.

"Be seated," Lucius said, not bothering with any social niceties. The Cattivafedes were a cadet branch of the Malfoy family, and Prospero was a third cousin twice removed.

"Lucius," Prospero said, taking a seat across the desk from him. Prospero had a much darker blond hair than Lucius, streaked with gray, and his face was wrinkled a bit from age. Lucius had been just seven the first time he'd met Prospero, who had already been in his early forties then.

"Your firm has been the family firm for almost a century," Lucius began. "However, a recent event has given me question as to the loyalty of the firm to the family. Indeed, recent events have made me question the loyalty of the entire branch, and the ethics of at least one member of the firm, probably more."

"I am unaware of any action against the family," Prospero replied.

"It seems that someone has not followed my instructions to drop any support of Fenton Price, due to his actions against my immediate family," Lucius said. "I realize that the instructions came over Yule, and might not have been properly distributed as a result, however I recommunicated them after the incident at my daughter Juliet's school. It has now been two weeks since then, and yesterday afternoon I received owls from Victoria, Draco, and Professor Snape at Hogwarts. Added to details that I have only recently learnt about the encounter Juliet's school, I have to question if your firm is the type of firm that should represent a respectable family."

"May I ask what details you have discovered?" Prospero asked. "I'm afraid that my son has been rather tight lipped as to his actions on the Price case."

"Juliet is eight, almost nine, and was raped by Price," Lucius said. "Fortunately it was only once, and unlike Victoria there seems to be no lasting physical result, though his timing was almost right for it. Your son and another member of the firm questioned her, with your son posing as a member of the muggle Child Protective Services, while apparently one of them was polyjuiced to look like Price.

"The questioning was harsh, and appears to have been designed to make sure that became an unreliable witness. My daughter nearly spent the entire evening locked in her room crying. If it wasn't for the fact that there was an episode of _The Next Generation_ that she hadn't seen on, I'm not certain that she would have ever left her room."

" _The Next Generation_?" Prospero inquired.

"Television show," Lucius said. "Full title is _Star Trek: The Next Generation_. Sequel to a show that aired in the nineteen sixties. I'm afraid that my daughters are trying to corrupted me to become a Trekkie. That being said, I do not like having to deal with a rightfully upset daughter. Which brings me to my eldest daughter and son. It seems that someone in your firm decided to tell Claudio Cattivafede about Juliet's interview and the firm's intention to portray my daughters and first wife as scarlet women and he repeated it in the Slytherin Common Room. Draco, and then Victoria defended the family honor.

"The question is do I need to defend the family honor by firing my solictors, or are you going to do something."

"Rest assured Lord Malfoy, actions will be taken, and you will find them most appropriate," Prospero promised. You certainly can expect that the firm's representation of Fenton Price is over. As for the two who interviewed your daughter, do you wish them fired or reassigned to the Azkaban Review you commissioned?"

"Much as I wish to put them out on the street, keeping them employed and under control of your firm is more likely to result in their silence and prevent them from working against the family goals. Azkaban it shall be. And I expect some results by next Yule at the very least."


End file.
